Sherlock Holmes and the Irrelivant Mystery
by Stampeder
Summary: When there's a murder in town,no one can seem to piece together the clues. But, there is still a glimmer of hope. Only one man can solve this mystery-- SHERLOCK HOLMES!


Sherlock Holmes and the Irrelevant Mystery

By Stampeder

The bloodied knife on the table. The stab wound in the victim's side. The evidence was all there. But the question was, could the right person find it?

Sherlock Holmes was munching on some burnt toast topped with overcooked eggs in his London apartment when the news came in. He was cleaning up as Watson waltzed through the door. "You smell like burnt toast topped with overcooked eggs," was Watson's first remark.

"Oh, goodness, what is it this time?" Holmes asked in a monotone voice. "Let me guess. The cleaning lady forgot her mop in the closet again and she wants me to return it to her?" Watson's face showed genuine surprise.

"How did you know?" he asked. Holmes responded, matter-of-factly,

"Elementary, my dear Watson. She simply left her mop in my closet. I'd expect she'd want it back."

"Well, there is one other thing…"Watson trailed off. "There's been a murder at west side again. Scotland Yard is dismissing it as a simple break-in theft, which, when the victim woke up, turned ugly. I just thought you might want to know about it."

"Well, I didn't, but since solving crimes is my job, I might as well get to it," Holmes said. He didn't even have time to shave before he had to rush out the door.

At the scene of the crime, Holmes and Watson were stopped by two burly officers of Scotland Yard. "You smell like burnt toast topped with overcooked eggs," they said. "We can't let you in smelling like _that_."

"It's all right, gentlemen, he can pass," said a tall slender man, whom Holmes immediately recognized as Chief Inspector Lestrade. As he was walking up to Holmes, he wrinkled his nose. "You smell like stale toast topped with overcooked eggs," he said.

"That's _burnt_ toast with overcooked eggs to you," retorted Holmes.

"Never mind," said the man. "Come inside."

When they entered the shabby apartment building, Holmes took a look at his surroundings. They were in a large, open room, with paint peeling off the walls. The body would have been hard to see at first, had Watson not foolishly tripped over it.

"I found the body!" he called out. Perhaps it would have been better to wait, as Lestrade lit an oil lamp a few seconds later.

"We already know," he responded. When everyone had gained their bearings, the Chief Inspector spoke.

"The victim is Victor Van Shticklesnoot. He was found here this morning by a thief who came here to rob the place."

"Did you arrest him?" Holmes asked.

"Why, I hadn't thought of that," said Lestrade.

"Do you really mean to say he got away?" Holmes was obviously peeved now. "I'm surrounded by idiots."

"You're one to talk, smelling like burnt toast topped with overcooked eggs," said Lestrade angrily.

"I like eggs," said Watson.

"Who cares?" replied Holmes.

"This is completely off topic," said Lestrade.

"Well, then, I blame the person who wrote this stupid story. We might as well just be attacked by killer teddy bears at this very moment," Holmes retorted.

"I like teddy bears," said Watson dreamily.

"Everybody shut up!" screamed Lestrade. There was silence for a few seconds.

"Do the teddy bears have to shut up too?" asked Watson.

"Will anyone get back to the point?" A new voice shouted angrily. Everyone looked in the direction of the speaker. It was Victor Van Shticklesnoot. "Everyone just shut up and find out who killed me!" he said, then promptly dropped dead.

"Anyway, to get back on topic, we may need you to look around for evidence, Holmes," said Lestrade.

"Me, look for evidence?" said Holmes, aghast. "Why would I do such a thing? It's not as if I'm a _detective_ or something."

"Just do it!" said Lestrade.

"Oh well, fine." Replied Holmes.

One day later, he had everything he needed. Scotland Yard had organized a line of suspects for Holmes to interview. Each interview seemed to go well, and when they were finished, Holmes was ready. He pointed to a man in a fleece sweater and a red hat.

"Officers, arrest this man," he said.

"No! No! I didn't do it! It wasn't me! I swear! Argghhh!" the man screamed as the officers dragged him away.

"Thank you, Sherlock Holmes, for doing a good deed to your city. Scotland Yard commends you," said Chief Inspector Lestrade.

"Please, I only want peace and quiet as a reward," Holmes said, his expression proud. "Though I also want to thank you for the yacht and the private island, which I put on your bill," he added.

"Excuse me?" said Lestrade.

"Oh nothing, nothing," Holmes replied.

It was three days later, and Holmes and Watson were lounging on their yacht.

"How did you figure out who the killer was, anyway?" Watson asked.

"Elementary, my dear Watson. I had no clue whatsoever. It's not like I'm a _detective_ or something," he said with a gleam in his eye.

THE END

Copyright 2009


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